Backfiring Fancies
by rumpelsnorcack
Summary: After the events of the war Ginny is hurting but doesn't want to bother Harry.  She tries an alternative method cope with her feelings


A/N: This was written for this year's takingitinturns fest at livejournal. Many many thanks to Aggiebell for the fast and lovely beta on this. This is the first (and only) thing I've written since the earthquake and I hope you enjoy it. Hopefully this is the start of many more to come again.

**Backfiring Fancies**

Resting her chin on her hand as she looked out her window, Ginny sighed. She could see Harry, Ron, Charlie and, surprisingly, Percy running around outside throwing some sort of ball. They had enchanted it so it would take off in unexpected directions whenever one of the boys touched it. Even from this distance she could hear their laughter. Harry looked up after a particularly violent dive took him past the ball and he waved at her, his face light and happy. Feeling like her own face was cracking with the effort, Ginny plastered what felt like an unconvincing grin to her own face and waved back then blew him a kiss. Giving her one last cheerful smile, Harry turned back to the game. The smile slid off her face and she sighed even more heavily.

Ginny couldn't understand why everyone else was coping so much better than she was. It had only been four short weeks since that horrible day at Hogwarts, all of the others had more reason to be brittle and unstable than she did and yet all of them were so carefree. Harry had almost died, had faced the worst the wizarding world had to offer, but he was showing no visible effects of the trauma. Whenever they were together, Ginny could feel herself pulling away from him because she almost resented the way the whole experience seemed to have trickled off his back. She laughed and joked, pretending as hard as she could that everything was fine but inside she could tell she was close to breaking into several pieces. Harry hadn't noticed anything was wrong, and while she knew they'd been apart for such a long time that he couldn't possibly know her as well as he used to, Ginny still felt, irrationally, that Harry should just _know_ that she wasn't as happy as she appeared.

Huffing out her frustration Ginny impulsively decided to visit George. If there was ever a time that she needed his help, this was it. She knew he wasn't happy either, and in fact the knowledge of his deep depression soothed her a little. At least _someone_ else wasn't unaffected by Fred's death. Ginny never felt like she had to pretend when she was with George; his raw pain validated her own and she was able to let herself voice her broken, tortured thoughts in a way she couldn't bring herself to do with anyone else, not even Harry.

'George? You here?' Ginny's voice sounded thin and tinny even to her own ears, but apparently it was enough for George to hear her. He came from the back room of his shop and enveloped Ginny in a hug. Choking back the tears the way she always did when she came to this shop and remembered that Fred would never tease her again, Ginny hugged George back.

'What's up, Ginny? You look tired.'

Ginny gave him her patented incredulous look, the one she saved for when he said something particularly stupid or hypocritical. In this case it was both, and he gave a reluctant chuckle. Hopping up on a stool near to the counter, she watched as George painstakingly put his new products onto the shelving.

'I need your help, actually. I need a ... a ...' Ginny broke off, unsure how to explain what she wanted. George stopped what he was doing and came to sit down with her. His concern for her made fresh tears well up, and she swiped them away viciously. 'I need to get rid of this,' she spat out. 'I need to stop feeling like I'm going to disintegrate while everyone else is so happy and normal.'

George looked at her for a long moment before answering her. 'You want a memory charm, don't you?'

'No. Well, not exactly. I don't want to forget ... just dull it a bit. I want a memory potion, if you have one.'

'It's not a good idea, Ginny.' George went back to shelving his products.

'But ...'

'Don't you think I haven't tried it? It doesn't make it any better in the long run; it just feels worse the next day after it wears off.'

'I don't care!' Ginny said. 'I just want one day where I don't feel like I can't talk to Harry because he's doing so much better than I am ... one day where Ron's stupid jokes don't make me want to strangle him.' She took a deep, shaky breath and added, 'I just want some time off from the pain, to feel normal again. I'm paying for it anyway, so you can't say no.' Ginny's eyes were defiant as she stared at George. He grimaced.

'I'm not going to change your mind, am I?'

Ginny shook her head.

'Okay. Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you what it would be like afterwards.'

Ginny smiled her triumph and slid off the stool as George turned and led the way into the back room.

'Sit down over there,' George waved his hand absently in the direction of an overstuffed couch nearby. 'Your role in this is really important if we don't want it to backfire.'

'Backfire?' Ginny asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.

'Don't worry; hardly ever happens.' George gave her a grin that was unreassuringly reminiscent of his old self. Scowling, Ginny sat down where directed.

'Okay, when I give you the ingredients to pour you need to keep a happy time in your life in your mind.' George whisked a cauldron onto his work space and sent it flying towards Ginny with a wave of his wand. 'Whatever you think about, that's what the essence of your memories will be. If you think of Harry,' George gave her another wolfish grin, 'you'll probably end up horny and no-one wants to see that. So maybe think of something else, would you?'

Resisting the childish urge to poke her tongue out at her older brother, Ginny closed her eyes and conjured a happy time in her life. She ignored George's advice and thought of a day long ago when a scared eleven year old had tried to confess her sins to her twelve year old brother and his best friend had looked at her with such concern that she had felt warm and protected.

'You ready?' George's voice cut into her thoughts, and Ginny's eyes snapped open. She nodded. He handed her the ingredients and she kept the image of Harry's caring eyes in her mind as she dropped them into the simmering liquid one by one. As the last one plopped into the bubbling liquid a high pitched voice whispered in her head, 'you're nothing. You're not worthy; Harry Potter will never care anything about you.' With a hiss, the herb sank and the potion's bubbling stopped as the surface calmed.

George carefully tipped the potion into a glass vial and handed it to Ginny. 'There you go,' he said. 'Let it rest til morning, then it should be ready to use.'

Thanking him, Ginny grabbed the potion and got out of the shop as fast as she could.

Harry was frustrated. He had thought that after the war things would go back to the way they had been when he'd first started school. That he would miraculously be free of all the horrible things that had hung over him with Riddle so cosy in his head. He tried to salve his conscience by reminding himself that he hadn't realised Riddle was in there, but it didn't help – Harry knew deep down that it wasn't really any excuse. He frowned and looked up. Ginny was walking towards him, her face alight with happiness and Harry forced an unnatural smile onto his face as she approached and sat down beside him. She slid her hand into his and gave him a quick kiss. He smiled, wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

It was always like this. Ginny was so confident, so carefree and alive that it seemed as if the events of four weeks ago had just washed off her, whereas Harry was struggling every day not to suffocate under the weight of the guilt that threatened to envelop him. Stifling a sigh, he pulled back from her and asked what she wanted to do.

'I just want to lie out here I think. It's such a beautiful day and I want to soak it all in.' Suiting action to words, Ginny lay back in the sweet grass and kicked off her shoes. She wriggled her toes in the long grass with a contented smile. The forced grin still on his face, and pain in his heart, Harry lay down next to her. He took her hand again and they lay still, neither talking. In moments like these Harry knew this was right – when they could just be together because nothing else mattered. The best thing about Ginny had always been how she had just accepted him. He smirked to himself, the thought momentarily lightening his heavy heart. She'd accepted him after she'd gotten over that crush when she was eleven, anyway. As if his thought had conjured a chill, Ginny shuddered and as Harry turned to her in puzzlement he saw her eyes welling with tears which she quickly hid from him, wiping one hand across her face as if she was shading it from the sun.

'It's not true,' she whispered, her voice fierce despite being barely discernable. 'It's not true!'

Harry reached one hand out towards her and flinched as she drew away from him. His face fell.

'Whatever it is, it's definitely not true,' he said, running his hand through his hair. 'Are you ... having nightmares?' To his own ears his voice was almost hopeful, though he tried to keep it even and unruffled. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, that he wished occasionally that other people were feeling this just as badly as he was. That _Ginny_ was feeling it as badly, so he could share his burden with her.

'No! No, everything is perfectly fine.' Ginny's voice turned low and seductive as she leaned towards him. Harry almost thought he'd imagined the fleeting loss of poise he'd seen. Once again, hiding his pain, he kissed her back.

Kissing Harry, Ginny's mind started drifting. She didn't understand what was happening - the potion George had given her was supposed to have taken the painful memories away and yet she was feeling even closer to the knife's edge. She could have sworn that when she lay holding Harry's hand that Riddle had snuck back into her head and started whispering to her how worthless she was. She shrugged the image away, putting all her energy into being with Harry, but the whispers persisted until she was shaking with the effort of controlling herself, of avoiding showing him her tears.

_You're nothing ... nothing. Weak, helpless, useless ... Harry Potter deserves better than you ..._

Harry pulled back and looked at her in concern just as a tear leaked out of her eye and rolled down her cheek.

'Ginny ...?' he reached out as if to touch her again, and the simple gesture unleashed the floodgates. Somehow Ginny found herself in his arms, chest heaving with sobs as she tried to get herself under control. Through it all, despite the relief she felt at finally letting her true feelings out, the mocking voice kept up its litany inside her head. She dragged herself away from Harry finally and curled into herself, wrapping her arms around her body as the voice laughed at her. She could hear Harry's voice trying to get her attention, but she was so focused on trying to hold onto herself, trying to let the voice know that it had no power over her that she couldn't respond to him.

Harry watched as Ginny struggled with some sort of inner demon. He had thought when she cried into his shoulder that finally he'd made a breakthrough and they could stop being so painfully polite to each other, but that glorious moment hadn't lasted long and Ginny had withdrawn again. She was closed in on herself, but at least (and here Harry felt shame for feeling this way) she wasn't acting so sunny and as if she had no care in the world. She may be no closer to communicating with him, but at least this feeling she was showing looked like something Harry could understand.

Her small voice, vicious in its passion, cut into Harry's thoughts. 'Get the _hell_ out of my head, you bastard!' He looked at her. She was staring straight ahead, arms still wrapped around her body, but there was determination in her now. 'You're dead! You have no hold on me anymore.'

Harry's mouth went dry as he looked at Ginny struggling with herself. Could she have, somehow, retained some vestige of Riddle in her after his death? Was she going to be the means he took to resurrect himself? He shook his head slowly, trying to push the thought away. Distrusting Ginny was inconceivable – after all they had done for each other over the last year losing her now, like this, would tear him apart.

Harry grimaced and focused his attention on Ginny. She had stopped struggling with herself and was sitting quietly, tears still fresh in her eyes. She was lost in thought, seemingly uninterested in her surroundings, but when Harry sighed and shuffled a little as if to stand up and give her some space alone she reached for his hand.

'Don't go, please,' she whispered. 'I think,' she swallowed before continuing. 'I think I need to talk to someone ... to you.' Her voice was pleading, but her eyes – when she looked at him directly – were almost relieved.

Harry shuffled slightly again, suddenly unsure what to do, then lay back down on the fragrant grass. He pulled Ginny in to his side where she curled into his body, her form fitting as easily to his as it had in the long ago days by the lake at Hogwarts. Despite his misgivings about Riddle, Harry smiled, the tug at his lips loosening something that had been tightened in his heart since he'd seen Fred's body fall to the floor. Ginny's hand was drawing anxious circles on his chest and he squinted down at her, catching a slight answering smile from her.

'I did something stupid yesterday,' she finally said, and when he opened his mouth to protest she poked his chest firmly and grinned at him, something of the old cheek in her eyes as she talked. Startled, Harry absently rubbed the spot she had attacked as he realised that what he had taken as happiness in her over the last four weeks might have been as much of an illusion as his own mask. Ginny's persona today was so _her_ that Harry wondered how he'd ever believed the one he'd been living with since the battle was the real one.

'If you'll let me finish,' Ginny continued, 'I did something stupid yesterday – I got George to make me a memory potion.'

She sniggered a little as Harry groaned. 'Yes, I _know_. But I wasn't thinking properly.' The circles she was still tracing on his chest became less stuttery, and more purposeful as she relaxed. 'I think ... I think it might possibly have backfired.'

Suddenly Harry was laughing, a real genuine laugh at the absurdity of her understatement. Ginny laughed with him, her lighter tones mingling with his deeper chuckle. It felt remarkably good to laugh again, releasing still more of the painful tightness he'd been living with.

'So, this genius memory potion of yours backfired ...' Harry prompted after their laughter had wound down a little.

Choking off her laughs, Ginny nodded, a slightly haunted look crossing her face. 'Yeah, when I added the ingredients, somehow Riddle's voice was in there again and I ...' she shuddered. 'Now when I'm with you he mocks me.'

While he had expected something like this, Harry's body still tensed at her candid admission. 'But ... he's dead,' he said, careful to keep his voice even.

'Yeah, he is,' Ginny acknowledged. 'But the things he made me think and feel, they're still in there and I think the memory potion dragged them up.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry said, wrapping his arms more firmly around her, til she squeaked. She pulled back and aimed a slap at his head which he ducked with a grin.

'What are you sorry for, idiot? It's not like it's your fault. But,' she chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about what to say, 'but it's good in a way. I don't feel so ...' she waved her hand vaguely, clearly trying to describe in pictures what she couldn't articulate. 'I've been feeling really ... I think 'blah' is the only way to describe it. But now I feel better. It hurts and I want to cry, but that's better somehow than the brittle feeling I had before, like I'd break if I didn't keep smiling.'

She leaned her chin on Harry's chest and looked up at him. He twined his fingers in her hair and they lay together, not talking for several long moments. Finally he looked down at her again.

'I know how you feel,' he said. 'I've felt like everyone else has been doing so well, holding it together.' He sighed as he remembered the last four weeks. 'But I think we were all doing the same thing – hiding the hurt from everyone else.'

'It's kind of stupid,' Ginny said thoughtfully. 'But I did it too.' She sat up and grinned down at Harry. 'I guess that's why we work so well together.'

'Because we understand each other?' Harry asked.

'No. Because we're both so stupid we'd never be able to get anyone else.' She smiled and kissed him. 'It's a good thing I like stupid guys, really.'

Harry laughed again, happier than he'd expected to be when he'd woken up that morning. They lay back down together, silent again but the strain that had characterised the last four weeks was gone.

A few days later Ginny slid back onto the stool at George's shop and smiled at him. He narrowed his eyes as he took in her relaxed body and her cheerful grin.

'That potion was supposed to wear off by now,' he said with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

'It didn't go quite to plan,' Ginny said still smirking at him. 'But in the end it didn't matter. What happened with Harry was way better than just dumping some bad memories.'

'Ginny, as your older brother I _really_ don't want to know about that. Give me nightmares just thinking about it ...'

'Get your mind out of the gutter, George. It wasn't sex – not that I'd have minded that.' She winked at her older brother, who gave a theatrical shudder, making her laugh.

'No,' Ginny continued, 'in the end the potion wouldn't let me hide my feelings. I ended up talking it out with Harry and while it wasn't easy I feel so much better now everything's out in the open.'

'Ah! Well, 'ears to backfiring potions then.' George raised a small vial at her in an ironic toast.

'Absolutely,' Ginny said, jumping down from her stool. 'Now I think I might just go hunt down Harry – give you something to have real nightmares about.'

She winked at him again. George pretended to vomit as she left the shop. He stared thoughtfully after her, then pulled his potion ingredients towards him. He'd suddenly had a great idea for a new product – Backfiring Fancies.


End file.
